


Hukops ste iffi

by PenguinofProse



Series: S4 Time Jump AUs [18]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Clarke Griffin, But not everyone who is bi suddenly falls in love because that's not how love works, Episode: s04e13 Praimfaya - Time Jump, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, Healing, Post-Episode: s04e13 Praimfaya, bisexual Echo, happiness, moonlit strolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26326066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: S4 time jump AU. Echo joins Clarke on the journey to the tower. A story focused on friendship, family and alliances, with a hint of Bellarke romance. Angst and fluff and a happy ending.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin & Madi, Echo & Clarke Griffin, Echo & Madi (The 100), Octavia Blake & Charmaine Diyoza, Octavia Blake & Charmaine Diyoza & Clarke Griffin
Series: S4 Time Jump AUs [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764070
Comments: 30
Kudos: 120





	Hukops ste iffi

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to a S4 time jump AU in which a bunch of my fave women work together rather than being set against each other as they so often are in both canon and fanfic. As ever, if you're not an Echo fan, please go read something more to your tastes rather than leaving hate here.
> 
> Content note: canon compliant attempted suicide and discussion of suicide and depression.
> 
> With huge thanks to Stormkpr for betaing, and huge apologies for any spelling errors in the Trig title! Happy reading!

Clarke doesn't understand why Echo is volunteering to go to the tower with her. To the best of her knowledge, Echo has never volunteered to do anything out of genuine altruism in her life. This must be a trick, she fears, some kind of ploy or strategy she has not yet understood.

But really, is even Echo cold enough to sabotage the urgent mission that might save them all?

She shakes that thought aside and gets on with running, Bellamy's last exhortation to hurry still ringing in her ears. She'll just have to keep an eye on Echo and see what her angle is – it's as simple as that, she figures.

They run hard, not hanging around to talk to each other. To be honest, Clarke highly doubts that Echo would have been chatty even if this were a leisurely stroll. But however hard they run, the time keeps ticking away, and the journey takes longer than the ten minutes Clarke was hoping for.

Then it gets even worse.

"Dish not aligned." A cold robotic voice informs them.

Clarke tries again.

"Dish not aligned."

Again.

"Dish not aligned."

"What does that mean?" Echo asks.

Clarke snorts. She might not like the woman, but she always thought she was reasonably intelligent until this moment. "I guess it means the dish is not aligned."

"What do we do?"

"Manual operation." Clarke says, heart sinking, as she looks at the instructions before them. "I have to adjust it manually. I have to climb the tower."

" _We_ have to climb the tower." Echo corrects her, as if it is obvious. "We should both go. That way if one of us falls and dies the other can finish the job."

Clarke swallows painfully. She knew Echo was made of stern stuff, but that casual mention of falling to their deaths is calm detachment on a whole new level, she thinks.

She doesn't want to die.

"You should go back to the rocket. We won't get back in time if we climb."

"It's better if I stay." Echo informs her, and starts to climb.

Clarke takes one moment to send a brief, heartfelt message over the silent radio, and then she follows her without looking back.

It's a long way to climb, it turns out. Clarke's arms are burning before they are a quarter of the way there, and she's not sure whether it's the exertion or the radiation or a toxic cocktail of both. It's hardly the safest thing to climb without a harness, either – each of them has at least a handful of close shaves, slipping and finding themselves missing a foothold or a handhold.

Clarke has the worst near miss of all, hanging from the tower by one hand, desperately scraping at thin air with a foot until Echo reaches for her hand and hauls her back up into line.

Huh. Echo kom Azgeda just saved her life.

And it wasn't exactly an _easy_ way of going about it, either. It took substantial physical effort, had both of them grunting with exertion, and now they're both panting desperately as they climb.

Why on Earth did she save her life?

"Nearly there." Echo says, brisk but over half way to encouraging.

Clarke realises something, as they reach the top. As they watch the rocket shoot skywards, and as they tug the dish into line.

She doesn't want Echo to die, either.

"What now?" Echo asks, when their task is done.

Clarke looks down. It's a long way down – a very long way indeed. There's snow everywhere, which might cushion their fall. They might only break a bone or two, rather than dying on impact. And then there's the death wave bearing down on them, and even if they can outrun that, what then? Hole up in the lab and wait for the end to come? Pray that the nightblood works?

"Now we jump. And then we run."

Echo doesn't wait to be told twice. Obedient to the last, she leaps into the air, Clarke following close behind her.

The run back to the lab is hellish. There is simply no other way of describing it. It feels like the fire is literally snapping at their heels, although Clarke knows on a logical level that it is a little further back than that. At one point she falls, and smashes the glass of her helmet, and Echo hauls her back to her feet.

Her face is burning. Is this it? Are they going to die here?

They keep running. They run until their lungs burn more than their skin, until the door of the lab is in sight. They run ever faster, then, stumbling into relative safety and falling onto the ground in a relieved heap.

Echo doesn't get up again.

"No." Clarke's not sure who she's talking to, only that she needs to say it. "No no no no no. Come on, Echo. Don't die on me." A sticky swallow, a cough filled with black blood. "You can't leave me to do this alone."

Echo is still breathing, just about – but it won't be much longer, unless Clarke acts now.

She does the only thing she can think of in this moment. She takes a sample of her own bone marrow, gritting her teeth through the pain. She never thought she'd see the day when she would give quite literally her own flesh and blood to save this particular woman, but she cannot bear the thought of leaving her to die now. It's difficult to take the bone marrow, because it hurts, because her hands are shaking, because she's no expert in this area of medicine. Most of all it is difficult because she has to pause to vomit every so often, and because every inch of her skin is burning.

She manages it. She injects Echo with the nightblood marrow.

And then she passes out in a puddle of her own black vomit.

…...

Clarke's skin is still burning when she wakes up – or, at least, it feels like it. But she does wake up, so that's a win. And she's pretty sure the afterlife would involve less pain and blood and all-round _grossness_ so she figures she must still be alive.

"You want some water?" A voice asks.

Clarke looks round, startled. Yes. That's Echo – alive, and playing nurse. She supposes that must be progress.

She gladly accepts the water, coughs a little as it goes down her scorched throat.

"You're alive." She says, when she thinks she can speak.

Echo gives a hollow laugh. "Yeah. You saved my life. Didn't see that one coming."

"You saved me back at the tower." Clarke says with a shrug. It seems easier than delving into her desperate and confusing need to keep her former enemy alive. She's not sure their tentative truce is quite solid enough for her to want to start discussing such big ideas as terror and loneliness.

Echo doesn't respond, so Clarke takes a moment to look around her. They're in the same place they collapsed to start with, just inside the door of the lab. Echo must have crawled or staggered to get the water, but apparently she has not managed much more than that. Both of them are still sitting in rather disgusting puddles of their own blood and vomit, and Clarke can see Echo's skin peeling with gross black nightblood-streaked scabs.

But they're both alive, and it feels like a miracle.

"What now?" Echo asks.

Clarke cannot resist a tiny hint of a smile, although it hurts her sore face to do so. Echo does seem to ask her for orders quite a lot, she notices. Clearly the woman is not accustomed to coping without a commanding officer to show her the way.

"Now we survive."

…...

They start slow, with their surviving. They spend the rest of that day sitting there, sipping water, more or less silent.

And then they get stronger, bolder, braver. They progress to taking a shower each, finding clean clothes. Clarke vomits up her first attempt at eating solid food, but it stays down after that.

By the end of that first week, they are clean and almost comfortable, although the peeling scabs are still an annoyance. They sit on chairs in the lab, and read or find tools or tasks to fiddle with. They eat full meals, and keep them down, and little by little, they regain their strength.

They still don't talk much, but that's OK. They're not alone, and that's what counts.

…...

"What now?" Echo asks, once they've managed a whole day of walking and staying upright and eating like functional healthy human beings.

Clarke manages not to hit her, but it's a struggle. If she had any thoughts at all when she desperately tried to save Echo's life, she thought maybe she was going to end up befriending this woman in the next five years. She didn't think she was going to end up with a loyal follower trailing around after her and asking her permission every time she wants to so much as breathe.

"What do you think we should do?" She asks, instead of rising to it.

"That's your choice." Echo says, eyes averted.

Clarke sighs. "But what would you do? If I weren't here?"

"If you weren't here, I'd be dead."

"That's not my point, Echo. My point is you're no fool. I might not like you much, but you know what you're doing. So back yourself and stop asking me what to do every five seconds."

Echo doesn't speak for a long time. Clarke supposes she has offended her, by telling it how it is like that, but she doesn't much mind. She has always thought honesty is the best policy, and she has no interest in spending the next five years pretending that Echo is not annoying her.

Then Echo does speak, and Clarke understands the silence. It wasn't the silence of having nothing to say – it was the silence of having too much to say, and not knowing whether any of it was allowed, nor where to start.

"The last time I backed myself, I got cast out." She says quietly. "I thought I was doing the right thing for my people, but Roan was furious with me."

"That sucks." Clarke offers, and she surprises herself by feeling genuine sympathy. Sure, she still despises Echo for undermining the rules of the conclave and endangering Octavia's life, but no one deserves to live the rest of their life steeped in guilt.

She knows better than anyone that stewing in guilt all alone is a recipe for heartbreak.

"It does." Echo agrees, tone level, but eyes sad. "Shall I figure out how long those rations will last us?"

"Sounds like a plan." Clarke agrees. It's hardly a groundbreaking use of initiative, but it's progress all the same.

…...

They stay in the lab for a month. There's no exact science to it, but that is long enough that they figure the death wave will have burnt itself out. The computer in the lab says that the outside temperature is vaguely reasonable, now, so hopefully their hunch is right.

They have enough rations for a couple more weeks. That's why Clarke thinks it's a good time to go – they have a little time to explore and find themselves a food source, if such a thing as a food source exists out there. Echo offers no real opinion either way – she just nods and agrees. She's getting a little better at trusting her own judgement when it comes to the tiny everyday decisions, but she's still not prepared to argue with Clarke about tactical next steps.

That's only one of the many things they don't talk about. They don't talk about Echo's former life, or their status as former enemies. They don't talk about anything that happened before that day at the tower, to be honest – and nor do they talk much about what happened after it.

When they talk at all, it is about the present moment.

"Should we take anything besides food and weapons?" Echo asks. "Will you want to take some medicine?"

Clarke nods. "I'll take a few basics. If we can find the rover we won't have to carry our packs very far. We could even drive back here for more. And if we can't find the rover or it's unusable we can always dump anything we can't carry."

"And I guess you'll be taking a sketchbook to draw your pictures of Bellamy?" Echo asks.

Clarke gapes at her, shocked. Is this _teasing_? Is this _friendship_? From a woman who has held her at the point of a sword and threatened almost everyone she has ever loved?

"I don't know." She snaps, somewhere between flustered and offended and taken by surprise.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to -"

"I know."

They talk even less than usual, for the rest of the day.

…...

They do manage to find the rover, and dig it out, and Clarke is glad of it. The rover represents safety, and hope, and comfort.

And yeah, sure, it also represents Bellamy. It reminds her of that last rover ride they took together, of him looking into her eyes and crashing as a result of it, the fool. In fact, now she comes to think of it, that delay is what made her and Echo miss the rocket.

Maybe she'll feel brave enough to tease him about that, in five years time.

"You OK?" Echo asks.

Clarke shrugs. She and Echo do not discuss whether they are OK, as a rule, and she sees no sense in changing that now.

"Come on. Let's go find us a new home." Echo suggests, hopping into the passenger seat.

Clarke represses a slight grin. It seems like her unexpected companion is at least learning how to back herself once more.

…...

Too late, Clarke realises that she was naive to get her hopes up when they found the rover. Having convenient transport is great, and all, but it doesn't give them food or water. It can't find them a home. They still cannot get into the Polis bunker, nor find anything of use in Arkadia.

They are out of luck, and out of ideas, and out of time.

"What now?" Clarke asks, hungry and overheated and just so damn tired.

Echo looks her right in the eyes, tries for a small smile. "Now we keep driving."

Clarke does it. She eases the rover forwards, foot on the gas, eyes on the horizon. She's proud of Echo for helping her out, there. She's been feeling more than a little hopeless, these last couple of days, as things have gone so very wrong. So she's proud of Echo for stepping up to take the lead a little more.

Is it normal to be proud of a former enemy? She's too tired to work that out.

…...

Clarke is so sick of sand. She's sick of heat, and thirst, and hopelessness.

She tries to remind herself that at least she's not alone, but her heart is not in it. Echo may be a real, living, breathing person, but they are neither family nor really friends. Clarke still feels alone, because there's still that distance between her and her sole companion. She cannot face any more of this awful existence, teetering between death and survival, with none of the love and warmth and common ground that defines what it is to be human.

The next time she stumbles, she doesn't get up again. Echo is a couple of paces ahead of her, as usual. Apparently a lifetime of training to be an elite warrior has left her in better physical shape than Clarke's upbringing on the Ark.

This is it, Clarke decides, lifting her gun to her own head. This is the moment. Echo's not looking at her, so she won't even notice until it's too late.

Clarke feels a brief twinge of guilt at the thought of leaving Echo alone. But it doesn't make much difference – she's been feeling guilty for one thing or another since she came to the ground, more or less, so this stab of self-loathing at the thought of leaving her tentative ally alone does not make an impact on her resolve.

Her finger hovers over the trigger.

"Clarke?" Echo turns to look for her, apparently having noticed that she has fallen behind.

And then she sees her position, takes in the gun, and runs the couple of steps between them, horror in her eyes.

"Please, Clarke. Believe me when I say you don't have to do that. I know you feel like you have to, but you don't. You still have a choice."

Clarke hesitates, confused. She wasn't expecting quite those words – she was expecting recriminations, and Echo begging her not to leave her alone. But those words sounded distinctly like _empathy_ , she thinks.

Echo presses on. "It sucks, doesn't it? It sucks when you feel like you're out of options and the only thing left to do is die. But – but you showed me there's always another choice, Clarke. You showed me there's always cause for hope around the corner."

Clarke blinks. What the hell is Echo talking about?

"What do you mean?" She asks, still pressing the gun to her own temple.

"I wanted to die." Echo says, just like that. Abrupt, factual. "That day the death wave hit. My people had cast me out, and I was certain I could never really belong with your people in space. There's this Azgeda ritual before death – before we give our lives for our people. And I was on the point of doing it when I thought _I don't want to give my life for my people_. I'd given up _everything_ for my people, been loyal to them my whole life, and all it ever brought me was pain."

Clarke lowers the gun. She doesn't particularly mean to, or choose to, but she wants to lay a sympathetic hand on Echo's shoulder, so she has to put down the gun.

"So I decided not to die for my people. I decided to go to the tower with you. I thought that mission was a death sentence, but at least I would die doing a good thing – saving the lives of the people who'd been prepared to give me a second chance even though I'd been nothing but an enemy to them." She swallows loudly. "I thought maybe that might make up for some of the terrible things I've done in my life."

Clarke nods. "I thought that, too. There's a reason I volunteered to go to the tower even though I knew time was short."

Echo snorts. "Please. You've only ever killed your enemies. I – my first kill was my best friend."

Clarke thinks of Wells. She's always felt guilt for his death, for not spotting Charlotte's trauma sooner. For not forming a more useful partnership with Bellamy earlier.

"I blame myself for my best friend's death, too."

Echo frowns. "Bellamy's alive. We saved him. That's something good for your to look forward to when we survive this."

"The best friend I had before." She corrects her, then takes a deep breath. "We had friends in Mount Weather, too. Maya."

Clarke watches Echo's face for a long moment. She half expects to hear her argue back, to protest that the things she has done are worse. But then she sees Echo take a deep breath, and watches as her new friend really remembers how to back herself at long last.

"I don't think there's much point arguing about it, Clarke. We've both done things we regret for our people. But you – you saved my life, that day, with that nightblood, when I didn't expect it or deserve it. And that showed me there's always something worth holding onto hope for."

Clarke nods. She sticks her pistol back in her waistband. She gets to her feet, shaky but determined.

And then she keeps walking, one step at a time.

…...

They are friends after that. It's hard not to be friends, when you've spilled your heart and soul to each other looking down the barrel of a gun. There are still things they haven't exactly resolved about their past differences, but Clarke has faith that they will get round to that eventually. Friendship does not always progress in a neat straight line, she realises. They have each other's backs, and will take care of each other, and they can finish getting to know each other and making amends later.

Clarke still feels low – of course she does. No one goes from holding a gun to their own temple to being filled with joy overnight. They find a valley of green, and there is food and water, and that's good. And she does feel much less alone now that she has grown closer to Echo, now they have bonded over shared trauma if nothing else, but she's not exactly back to her best. She still feels guilty, and tired, and rather pointless, apart from anything else. What's the purpose of the Commander of Death, when there is no one left to kill?

Today is one of her bad days. The sun is well up, and she's still lying on her bed in the cottage they have adopted. Echo has one room, Clarke has another at the opposite end of the house. It's a good fit for their relationship, she decides – always simultaneously together yet apart.

There's a knock at her door.

"Come in." She calls, because she knows it must be Echo.

"Hey. You want to come fishing?" Echo asks.

Clarke shakes her head.

"Come on. It might be fun. You can laugh at me failing to catch anything."

It's odd, Clarke thinks. Two months ago she could never have imagined laughing at Echo. But she doesn't much feel like laughing today, either, if she's being honest.

"Clarke. Come on." Echo takes a deep breath. "You don't want Bellamy to come home and find you half-starved, do you?"

She looks up, sharp. "Why do you always bring Bellamy into it? I wish you wouldn't. I don't need you guilt tripping me like that."

Echo sighs, sits on the foot of her bed. "That's not what I'm trying to do. You remember that day in the desert?"

Clarke nods. She will never forget it.

"I'm trying to remind you that there's hope around the corner. Isn't that what you're holding onto? Seeing Bellamy again when he gets home?"

"And all the rest of my friends. And my mum." She protests weakly.

Echo doesn't bother replying to that. They both know there's no point – and Clarke has to acknowledge, now that Echo has said it, that the thought of Bellamy coming home is about the brightest spot in her life, right now.

Clarke gets out of bed and finds her clothes and boots. It looks like she is going fishing, today. But as she laces her boots she is struck by a thought.

She has no idea what Echo is holding onto. What's her bright spot on the horizon? What's her reason to go on fighting?

One of these days, Clarke is going to work up the courage to ask.

…...

Echo has bad days, too. She doesn't spend her bad days lying in bed, though – she disappears into the forest with her bow and arrow and comes back several hours later with bruised feet and bleeding knuckles and enough meat to feed them for a week.

It's a strategy that ensures they have plenty of supplies. But Clarke thinks it's probably not the healthiest of coping mechanisms.

…...

They have been living in the valley a couple of months when they first see the child. She's small, slight, a young girl who looks half-starved.

Clarke abandons her breakfast to run after her.

She regrets that, minutes later, when she finds her leg trapped by a hunk of rusted metal. Echo must hear her screams, because she arrives within seconds and helps Clarke free herself and hobble home.

"What were you thinking?" Echo asks, watching Clarke stitch herself back together.

"I wasn't thinking. Obviously." She bites out, threading the needle through her calf between phrases.

Echo snorts. "That's not like you. Thinking things through is what you do best."

Clarke takes a break from her stitching to answer. "Usually. Turns out I'm more impulsive when it comes to worrying about orphaned children." She cannot quite put it into words, but all she knows was that there was no way she could have sat back and not run after that girl, this morning. There was no way she could have left a scared child out there alone without at least trying to help her.

"We don't know she's orphaned."

"She must be. She looked like no one was taking care of her. And if there was anyone else out there surely we'd have noticed?"

"We missed her for this long." Echo points out.

Clarke acknowledges that with a nod, gets back to stitching up her wound. It hurts, but it doesn't hurt as badly as radiation burns or missing her loved ones or holding a gun to her own head.

"We're going to end up taking her in, aren't we?" Echo asks, and she doesn't sound as cold about the idea as Clarke might have expected.

"I hope so."

Echo nods, and leaves her to her stitching. And so it is settled.

…...

Clarke does most of the initial work in trying to win the child's trust. She shares food with her, tries to start conversations, shows her some sketches. Echo hangs back, in the shadows, and explains to Clarke that she is not really the maternal type.

Clarke tells her that's utter crap, because frankly, she never saw motherhood as her greatest talent either. She thinks neither of them have any business raising a kid – they both have kill counts longer than the days this girl has been alive, she's pretty sure. But she doesn't say that, because she understands that Echo is still struggling to face her own demons.

It doesn't take long for the girl to agree to share meals with Clarke, and to reveal that her name is Madi.

"Madi. That's a lovely name. Would you like to meet my friend?" Clarke offers.

"You mean the spy who hides in the trees?" Madi asks.

Clarke blanches, shocked. She was sure Echo was better at going unseen than that. "Yes. She used to be a spy." She concedes.

"She's good." Madi offers. "I know all about hiding, too – from the flamekeepers. I'd like to meet your friend."

"She's called Echo."

"I know."

Clarke laughs. This child can scarcely be older than six years of age, yet already she is running rings around two seasoned mass-murderers.

…...

Madi is delightful, and Clarke finds that, with her presence, some of the weight starts to lift from her heart. Her mood brightens, little by little, and she has to get up in the morning to give the child breakfast if nothing else.

A funny thing happens, though. About a week after they first start to combine their lives with Madi's, Clarke wakes to the sound of chatter. She leaves her room, and finds that Madi and Echo are already sitting at the table in their makeshift dining room.

"Do you want some more fruit?" Echo is asking, with her back to Clarke.

"Yes please. Clarke, do you want fruit?" Madi pipes up.

Echo spins in her chair, takes in Clarke's appearance. "Hey. Sorry we started without you. Madi was hungry."

Clarke wonders, just for a moment, about expressing annoyance. It's rude for the rest of her family to start eating without her, she's pretty sure. And they can't be spoiling Madi, letting her eat whenever the hell she feels like it. That's no way to raise a child.

But the sight of the two of them convinces her not to. Madi looks overjoyed and utterly comfortable in their home. And Echo is smiling more widely than Clarke thinks she has ever seen her smile before.

More than that, Clarke realises, Echo is regaining her confidence. She has shown some faith in herself this morning, by pressing ahead with giving Madi some breakfast rather than waiting around for Clarke to give her the go-ahead. And Clarke has no interest in undermining that.

She simply grins and takes a seat at the table.

…...

Clarke finally works up the courage to ask Echo the truth one evening after Madi has gone to bed. She's been building up to this moment for a long time, and it feels strange. She's never really had an overt conversation with a friend about their mental health before. She knows that she and Bellamy often touched upon it, but that was unplanned and simply an organic product of their wonderful relationship.

This is very different. This is her sitting on the couch and planning her questions. It's what she wishes she'd done for Jasper, in many ways. She cannot right that wrong now, but she can at least be a real friend to her unexpected ally.

"Echo? You know how you talk about having something to hold onto? Some reason to keep hoping?"

Echo nods, curiosity in her eyes. She's not a woman who shows her emotions so openly in the shape of her mouth or brows as some, but Clarke is growing more fluent at reading her.

"Do you mind if I ask what you hold onto?"

Clarke expects Echo to hesitate, maybe to evade the question. And if she doesn't want to answer, and she wants to keep going on her brutal hunting trips, then that's fair enough. This is something that cannot be forced, she knows.

Echo does nothing of the kind.

"Madi." She says, straight up, as if it is obvious.

" _Madi_? But you're always saying you're not the maternal type."

"I want to learn." Echo says, utterly firm and committed, and Clarke knows that she does not mess around when she is determined on something. "I really want to. I know that's silly – I can't imagine myself ever actually giving birth to a kid and raising it from a baby. But we have Madi now, and she's – she's about the age I was when my life started to spiral away from me. So I'm going to learn to be a mum, and I'm going to give her a better life than I had. And I'm going to protect her from the things that made me into what I became."

Clarke blinks, shocked, but aware that she needs to hold it together and say something affirming. "You're doing really well. You're going to do a great job of it, Echo."

"Of course I am. I don't fail." She says, a flash of the old Echo peeping through.

That's what makes Clarke think maybe they're done for the day, actually. Echo tends to revert back to her rather more brusque and confrontational self when she's feeling insecure or threatened. So maybe she has pushed hard enough, and it would be wise to leave it there.

But then Echo speaks. "Thanks for asking." She says quietly.

"Thanks for looking out for me."

Echo shrugs. "It seems like saving each other's lives has become our thing. Who'd have seen that coming, before Praimfaya?"

Clarke gives a hollow laugh. "Yeah. Not what I expected."

The silence sits for a moment. There's something else she wants to ask, but she wonders if it might really cross a line.

"Can I ask – and you don't have to answer – but what kept you going before Madi?"

Echo frowns, but it's more a thoughtful frown than an annoyed frown. "You, I guess. Not in a romantic way or anything like that. But that you thought I was worth saving. That maybe I could learn how to have friends instead of being loyal to a queen and then a clan that brought me nothing but trouble. That and knowing I'd hit rock bottom and survived."

Clarke nods. Hitting rock bottom and living to tell the tale – that's definitely something she can empathise with.

…...

Clarke has had many best friends in her life. Some would say that makes her lucky, perhaps, on first hearing that statement. But she knows it's the opposite – she's had many best friends, because they just keep leaving her. Wells died, Bellamy had to flee to space. Somewhere in between Raven lost her heart and her hope and the City of Light started destroying her head, and any optimism Clarke once had that _I'd pick you first_ might have grown into a more lasting friendship scattered like sand in the wind.

Echo sticks around.

They keep each other and Madi fed and warm and sheltered. They keep each other sane, more or less, entertaining Madi with stories and drawings about life beyond the valley.

And when Madi is asleep, or taking a moment to withdraw into her own space and mourn the life she knew before Praimfaya, they talk about everything else that is on their minds – the past and the future, swords held to throats and guns held to heads.

Sometimes, though, they speak of lighter things. Sometimes they take a moment even to behave like frivolous young women on the Ark, Clarke thinks.

"Drawing Bellamy again?" Echo observes one evening, as they sit near the fire.

Clarke flushes, but doesn't bother hiding the sketch. "I might be."

Echo rolls her eyes. "You'd better say something when he gets back. I can't go the rest of my life watching you two gaze at each other like that."

Clarke hums a little, tries to process what Echo just said. It's the first time they've really mentioned the future, discussed the idea that they might be hanging around each other beyond this time and place. And obviously they are going to, Clarke thinks, now it has been mentioned – they are a family, with Madi, and she cannot imagine that falling apart. It's just that they've not said it before, aside from those vague comments about holding onto hope they share so often.

Clarke files that thought away, and asks a new question. "Is there anyone you love like that, in the bunker? Anyone you're looking forward to seeing?" Echo doesn't bat an eyelid at the open implication Clarke loves Bellamy, but perhaps that's no surprise by now.

"Not really. There's a man, Ivon, I slept with a couple of times, but that wasn't serious. I was too hung up on Ontari at the time."

"Ontari?" Clarke asks, shock making her sound a little rude, she fears.

Echo sighs. "Yeah. I know she was a monster. But I – I think it was a power thing more than really loving her? I don't know. Nia really messed me up, huh?"

There's no good answer to that. Clarke simply smiles gently and gives her friend a quick squeeze of a fleeting hug around the shoulders.

Echo shakes herself, and moves on in a lighter tone. "And I have to admit, I had a bit of a crush on Bellamy at one point."

" _Bellamy_? My Bellamy?"

" _Your_ Bellamy?" Echo throws back at her, teasing.

Clarke feels herself flush. "You know what I mean."

"Your Bellamy." Echo confirms. "It's not a common name, is it?"

"You had a crush on him?" Clarke's shouldn't be surprised – she would be the first to agree that he's a very lovable guy. But she never imagined that Echo might have noticed as much, too.

Echo grins. "Yeah. I mean, you're aware he's attractive, right?"

Clarke laughs. Yeah – that hadn't escaped her notice.

"But I thought he was a bit of a hero, too. From when I met him in Mount Weather. And he was really decent to me, even though I was the enemy – I guess it balanced out that obsession I had with Ontari."

"When did you stop?" Clarke asks, concerned for some reason she doesn't care to pause and analyse.

"Honestly? That day just before Praimfaya when you got attacked on the way to the island. The way you two were looking at each other – it made me realise you were right for each other." She sucks in a deep breath. "Maybe if I keep working on leaving my past behind, someone will look at me that way, one day."

"I hope so. I want that for you." Clarke says, fervently.

Alliances are always risky. But she's so happy that she put her faith in this one, now.

…...

It's not all fun and games and frivolous chats about lovers. There are serious issues to tackle in Shallow Valley, too.

Today there is an argument brewing over what they should share with Madi about the past and about their stories.

"We have to tell her the truth." Echo says, firm. "All of it. It's not fair to lie to a child."

Clarke sighs. She knows where Echo is coming from, knows that her answer has grown out of her own trauma. But she firmly believes that there are some things young children should be protected from – that's part of her baggage, and it weighs heavily on her.

"We shouldn't lie to her. But I don't think we should go out of our way to share the more violent or upsetting things with her while she's so young." She bites her lip a little. "How about we sit down and discuss everything that might come up, settle on a way to decide what we're happy to say about it? So that we're on the same page in front of Madi."

So it is that the long journey to truth, forgiveness, and absolute honesty begins.

…...

"I want to be the one to tell her about Azgeda." Echo announces, to Clarke's complete unsurprise, about a week later.

"That's fair. What do you plan to say?"

Echo frowns. "I want to be honest about it. I want her to understand why it was so easy to go along with it – the feeling of belonging to a group is really powerful. And fear is powerful, too. And – and Nia was clever. Manipulative. A monster."

Clarke nods, calm and supportive.

"But I want her to come away from it understanding that it's important to stick to what you know is right, even if it means disagreeing with your people. And that killing people because you're following orders doesn't make their deaths feel any lighter."

"That sounds perfect." Clarke offers.

Echo nods. She frowns. She picks up one of Clarke's pencils and turns it in her fingers. And then she speaks at long last. "Will you be there when I tell her? I don't want to have to do it alone."

"Of course I will."

They always stick together, all three of them. It's an unexpected alliance, but it's built on the firmest of foundations.

…...

Madi is a curious child, so it's just as well that Clarke and Echo have agreed a strategy when it comes to telling her the truth. She's thoughtful, too, and although she's very young she takes their words seriously.

She's seen too much of life already, Clarke thinks. She's hidden from flamekeepers sporadically for six years, then watched her birth mother die in her arms. Clarke wonders if they are traumatising her by saying even as much as they do share about their past before this valley, but she maintains that a balance between protectiveness and honesty is the only way forward.

Echo has finished telling the tale of her time as an Azgeda spy, now. The three of them are sitting around the fire, and Echo is staring into the flames while Madi looks at her, brow quirked in curiosity.

"But you're not a spy any more?" Madi checks.

"No."

"And you're not going to kill people again?"

"Only if they try to hurt you or Clarke." Echo says robustly.

"That's good." Madi says easily.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's really good." Echo sounds a little choked, Clarke thinks. She's never seen Echo cry, even to this day – even though she knows full well her friend was on the verge of killing herself, back when they first hit it off. That's some serious repression of emotions, she muses. Queen Nia really must have made her mark.

Madi looks thoughtful for a moment. She picks up a pebble, turns it in her hands. Sets it back down on the ground with a frown.

"Can you still teach me how to shoot a bow and arrow?" The child pipes up. "I promise not to use it on people. Just deer. But I think it would be really cool to learn. Am I old enough to learn?"

"I guess you're old enough to start learning." Echo says, eyes sliding to Clarke's – not for permission, as such, because that is not how they work any more. But for agreement, and support, and a united front.

"Maybe I should learn too." Clarke offers.

She doesn't much care about bows and arrows. But she does care about these two remarkable women, so perhaps it's worth a try.

…...

Clarke and Echo sleep together one time. Perhaps it was bound to happen eventually. It's hardly a great success – it's long drawn out and frustrating and really rather sweaty. Clarke doesn't particularly regret it, though. She doesn't have any great concept of _saving herself for Bellamy_ as if she were some maiden from old Earth legend. They've both of them managed to sleep with plenty of other people before now whilst remaining steadfastly devoted to each other. So no, she's fine with the fact that she and Echo have tried this experiment. She just thinks it was a bit of a waste of time.

She rolls over to face Echo, ready to offer exactly that analysis of the situation. Echo is facing towards her, too, looking her right in the eyes.

"I love you." Echo says.

Clarke feels like she's going to throw up. She can't. That's not possible. She can't ruin their easy -

"You're the truest friend I've ever had." Echo continues, tone level. "You're my family, and I love you for it. But we should never, ever, try to have sex again."

Clarke lets out a laugh of sheer relief. "You got that right. You know, for a moment there, I thought -"

"God, no." Echo rushes to assure her. "Sorry. I wondered why you looked so scared." She swallows loudly. "I've never had a best friend to love before. I was worried we might have ruined it."

"I think we're good." Clarke says, because as long as they can have this honest conversation, she cannot see how their friendship could flounder.

Echo snorts. "Good. Yeah. That was..."

"...A complete disaster?" Clarke asks cheerfully. "Awkward as hell? Super frustrating?"

" _So_ frustrating." Echo agrees. "I definitely do better on my own. No offence. You were very... competent."

"Competent?" Clarke cannot help but laugh.

"Yeah. But – _disengaged_ , you know?"

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. You don't exactly look much like Bellamy."

"Should I take that as a compliment?" Echo wonders aloud.

Clarke laughs again. It's good to come across a genre of disaster which can be followed by laughter rather than the deaths of everyone she loves, she decides.

Echo laughs a little, too, rolls onto her back and relaxes right into the pillow. "You know, that was my first time with a woman." She offers, light.

"Oh God. I'm so sorry. Have I ruined women forever for you?"

Echo hesitates, makes a show of considering it. "No. Still not straight. But I think I might not be so into blondes."

The rest of the evening passes much like that – two good friends, laughing at mistakes made long ago and more recently.

…...

Lessons in how to shoot a bow and arrow are pretty fun, it turns out. They spend time together as a family, laughing and learning. Slowly but surely, they put distance between themselves and the trauma of the past.

"That was a good shot, Madi." Echo congratulates her young pupil with warmth in her voice.

Clarke smiles at the pair of them. They're both rather more open with their emotions than they were when she first met them, she thinks.

"It was better than Clarke." Madi pipes up, and it's more or less the truth.

"I'm getting there." Clarke argues – not because she cares who's the best shot in the family, but because a small bit of cheerful competition can be a good thing, she thinks.

"Stop comparing yourself to Clarke and have another go." Echo chastises her gently. "It's more useful to be the best you can be than to worry about what she's doing, don't you think?"

Madi nods, thoughtful, and gets on with shooting at the target.

Clarke is content to hang back a little and watch. That's partly because she enjoys watching two people she loves enjoy their morning. But it's partly for another reason, too – she really finds herself missing Bellamy, whenever they have an archery lesson.

It's silly, she chastises herself. She should count herself lucky – she's safe and well, and Madi and Echo are safe and well, too. But she cannot help but wonder whether her other friends made it safely to space and got the oxygen on in time. And she worries about Bellamy most of all, of course.

It's worse when they're shooting together because it reminds her of that day he first taught her how to shoot a rifle. It reminds her of heated looks and secret smiles and shared forgiveness, and everything else that is unique to her relationship with Bellamy. This close friendship she shares with Echo is simply no substitute for the company of the person she's in love with, and who has supported her for almost as long as they were on this planet together.

Sometimes she catches herself thinking that all this would be much simpler if she and Echo could just fall in love with each other. But she's learnt the hard way, on Earth, that love does not work like that. She fell in love with another woman's boyfriend, and with the leader of the people she thought were her enemy.

So yeah, right now she's in love with someone who's thousands of miles away if he's alive at all. And the irony is, that's probably the most straightforward relationship she's ever had on the ground.

…...

Clarke thinks she is hearing things, the first time she hears Echo talking to the plants. If she kept a list of things she didn't expect to encounter in her life, former Azgeda spies talking to tomatoes would probably have been at the top of her list.

It's real, though. It's real and it keeps happening. And Clarke thinks it's important to keep a careful watch on her best friend's mental state, so when they have a quiet moment together one evening, she mentions it.

"Did I hear you talking to the cauliflowers earlier?" She asks, tone level and almost casual.

Echo seems completely unconcerned. "Yeah, probably."

"Does it help them grow, do you think?" Clarke asks.

"No idea. That's not why I'm doing it." Echo swallows. "It's a pretty great _up yours_ to Nia, isn't it? Completely harmless, but she'd have hated it. The ultimate peaceful protest."

Clarke laughs. She hopes that's allowed. She knows they're talking about something serious, here, beneath the frivolous conversations with vegetables. But she agrees with Echo – sometimes, delighting in the ridiculous is the best way to reclaim a little joy.

"Do you think about her a lot?" Clarke asks gently.

Echo snorts. "All the time. How could I not? Just like I know there's not a day goes by that you don't remember Mount Weather. You don't forget anything that has hurt you that deeply."

"What was she like?"

"She liked watching people die. But even more than that, she liked watching people become killers. She liked _making_ them become killers."

"I'm sorry." What else is a friend to say, about something as horrific as that?

It's not about what you say, though. Clarke is starting to realise that now. It's simply about being there, present, and showing the people you love that they're never alone.

…...

Months lengthen into years, and the family in Shallow Valley continue happily, more or less. Madi still gets nightmares about watching her birth family die, but she comes to wake Clarke or Echo these days to help her through them. Echo disappears for entire days with her bow and comes back footsore and weary, with enough meat to feed a small army. But she does that ever more rarely as the years pass by. And there's even one time, about four and a half years in, when Clarke catches her at the door on her way out and asks if she thinks that spending some time on the vegetable plot and talking to the tomatoes might work for her instead, today.

To her shock, Echo says yes, and spends the day gardening instead of running herself ragged.

Clarke manages to get out of bed every morning, these days. Some days it's easier than others, and she still has a tendency for bad news to get her down more than she thinks it really ought. But probably that's normal, she tells herself. She can't force herself to bounce straight from holding a gun to her head to being the most lighthearted person on Earth. Maybe it will even take several years for her to put the pieces of her happiness back together, to leave behind the grief of so many deaths and the trauma of everything she's had to do since landing on this planet, to find a new purpose in a world without need for the Commander of Death.

The three of them start to grow optimistic, as the five year mark approaches. Echo and Madi talk about new friendships, and Clarke plans a feast to welcome her friends home.

But then no ship falls from the sky.

…...

Clarke does not get out of bed, the morning after the day that marks five years. Or at least, she doesn't get out of bed right away. She just doesn't see the point – Echo can take care of Madi, and there's nothing much else keeping Clarke going, now that she's lost hope in seeing her friends.

She tries so hard not to give up on them, just because they didn't come back on the very day she expected. There could be all kinds of things going on here, she figures. They could have counted the days differently, or not have enough fuel, but be perfectly safe and well.

But this is one matter on which her head and her heart refuse to agree, and so she finds that she is absolutely miserable.

Of course, Echo knocks on her door, about the middle of the morning.

"You remember last autumn? When I was about to go on one of my hunting trips and you asked me to talk to the tomatoes instead?"

Clarke nods, silent.

"Great. This is me asking you to talk to the tomatoes, Clarke. Get out of bed. Go play catch with Madi. Draw one of your sketches of Bellamy. Whatever – but sitting here stewing in it won't help."

"I know." Clarke mutters, defensive. She's more or less a doctor – she knows how depression works.

"I know that doesn't make it any easier to get out of bed." Echo says mildly. "That's why I'm dragging you. Come on, do something that will lift you up."

Clarke nods. Echo's speaking sense, but she's struggling to force herself to hear it.

Echo lingers on the threshold a moment longer. "They'll be home before you know it."

That's when Clarke finds herself crying. She doesn't tend to break into messy fits of weeping – she tends to wear her grief more discreetly, stick to her room when she's feeling low. But right now there are hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

"What if they don't come home, Echo? What if this is it, just the three of us for ever and ever?"

Echo pauses, gives the serious question the serious thought it deserves. "Then I can't think of two people I'd rather see out my days with. I mean it, Clarke. Sure, I'd love for everyone to get safely back to the ground and us to rebuild society. But this life – it's so much better than the life I thought I had ahead of me. And every day I'm grateful."

That stirs something inside of her. "Me too. Or – almost every day I'm grateful." She sits up, clasps her hands on her knees, prepares to face the day. "Thanks, Echo."

Echo nods, and goes on her way. That's how it is with the two of them – they save each other, but they don't make a fuss about it. And then they get on with their lives.

Clarke feels a little brighter, now, as she dresses and leaves her room. Sure, she's bitterly disappointed that her friends have not come home and scared beyond belief as to what that might mean.

But she still has hope, as long as she's still breathing. She just hopes to high heaven that Bellamy is still breathing, too.

…...

A rocket falls from the sky a week later, but it is not the rocket her friends left for space in.

"Eligius prisoner transport?" Clarke reads through her scope.

"Sounds bad." Echo summarises, concise and accurate.

Clarke nods. "We hide Madi." That has to be the first step of any plan.

"Yeah. Then you go see if you can negotiate, and I cover you from the trees."

Clarke allows herself the smallest wry smile as she sets about putting that plan into action. Sure, a ship full of strangers have landed in the middle of their peaceful valley. But Echo is backing herself, once and for all, and it does her heart good to see it.

And more than anything else, developments like this give Clarke a reason to get out of bed in the morning. Yes, she's scared about the danger, particularly to Madi. Yes, she'd rather avoid becoming the Commander of Death once more.

But she cannot deny that having someone to negotiate with gives her a purpose in life, almost as much as raising a child has done, these last five years.

…...

It turns out that the leader of the new arrivals is a visibly pregnant woman, and that her loyal men – and they mostly do seem to be men – refer to her as Diyoza. Clarke cannot figure out whether that is a first name or a surname, any more than she can figure out how this Diyoza came by the frankly terrifying scar on her throat.

But the pregnancy, at least, is a clear trump card she is not going to throw away lightly.

"I'm sure there's a reason you insisted on meeting me out here." Diyoza says, striding towards the treeline with a frown etched onto her face.

"Yes. I've got backup in the trees." Clarke says. There's no need for this Diyoza to know that her backup is only one woman. "You're Diyoza?"

"Colonel Charmaine Diyoza, at your service." The woman offers, a little mocking, without bothering to extend her hand.

"Clarke Griffin."

"No titles?" Diyoza asks, eyes narrowed.

"Sometimes known as the Commander of Death, but I prefer not to lead with that." Clarke shrugs.

Well, then. That has an impact. Diyoza straightens a little, narrows her eyes even further.

Clarke pushes her advantage. "I also have some training as a medical apprentice. It seems like you could use medical care." She gestures towards Diyoza's obviously pregnant belly.

Diyoza snorts. "This is the least of my worries. Yes, I could certainly use a doctor."

"If you help me, I can introduce you to other doctors. Engineers and farmers, too." She bargains.

"I'm listening."

Clarke hesitates. She doesn't want to give too much away, but she does want Diyoza to work with her. "What's your purpose in coming here? Who are your people?"

Diyoza shrugs. "We're criminals. Terrorists, murderers and the like. Sent away for mining work, and now we come back here to find the Earth burnt to cinders. We're looking for somewhere to live peacefully – or as peacefully as criminals ever do." She has a cynical sense of humour, this woman, and Clarke thinks they could get on quite well, if only they can make a deal not to kill each other.

"We want to live peacefully, too." Clarke begins, because that seems like a safe place to start.

"And you say you have doctors?"

"We've got doctors." Clarke swallows down nerves and goes all in. "There's a small group of us already settled here. I'm the only doctor here at the moment, and we have warriors here too." That's a white lie, but she thinks she'll get away with it. She intends for Madi and Echo to stay out of sight, after all.

"Where are the rest of them?" Diyoza asks, frowning.

"We have doctors, engineers and farmers buried under rubble in a bunker not far from here. And about a thousand highly trained warriors, give or take."

"Are you trying to threaten me, Clarke?"

"I'm trying to explain why keeping the terms of any deal we make would be in your interests." She says smoothly.

Diyoza gives a cold laugh. "So you want me to dig your warriors out of the ground, and in return I get to share your doctors?"

"Pretty much." She agrees.

"There's more?" Diyoza reads in her answer.

"There's another small group. They went to space. They'd be useful to you if they're still alive – brilliant engineers and leaders. But this is where it gets complicated." She pauses, gathers her thoughts, prepares for the tactical masterstroke. "They're your leverage. There are people up there that I love, people that the leader of the group in the bunker loves. Her brother most of all. You're as good as guaranteeing our co-operation as long as you bring them back down here safely." She knows it's a risk to say so much, but she thinks it will pay off.

"Your doctors are your leverage, your loved ones are ours." Diyoza summarises.

"Yeah."

"I can work with that. You want to shake on this? Sign a sheet of paper? Drink to it?"

"I want to borrow your comms system and find out if the group in space are even still alive." Clarke admits.

Diyoza smiles, surprisingly soft. "Go ahead. I take it your cover can't follow you out of the trees, though?"

Clarke shrugs. "You know where you stand, now. You want that baby safe, and you want our doctors to help out with whatever else it is you're worried about, so you won't touch me."

Diyoza laughs. "Very good, Clarke. I think we're going to be good friends, you and me."

…...

Clarke cannot tremble with nerves as she stands at the comms desk on the Eligius transport ship. She cannot show weakness in front of Diyoza.

But she can admit to herself that she's nervous beyond belief. This is the moment she finds out for certain whether her friends have made it. This is the moment she learns whether the journey she made up that tower with Echo was all for nothing.

This is the moment she finds out whether Bellamy is even still alive.

"Don't bother with the radio." A young man with very little hair recommends. "Atmospheric radiation is blocking it. Try the lazer-comm."

Clarke follows his advice, forces her hands to stay steady as she reaches out to hit the switch and talk.

"This is Clarke Griffin on the ground, calling the Ring. Can anyone hear me?"

A pause. That's fine. She never expected an immediate reply. She can deal with this.

"Clarke Griffin, calling from the ground. Can anyone -?"

"Clarke?" There's a crackling noise. "Clarke, this is Emori. Is that really you?"

"Emori? You're alive?" She's not sure whether it's more question or exclamation, but either way Clarke has to admit she's pretty thrilled right now.

"Never mind that – _you_ 're alive. How did you manage that one?"

"Nightblood. And – I don't want to say too much, but everyone who was with me that day is alive too." She says carefully, aware of Diyoza over her shoulder.

"That's great news, Clarke. Bellamy is not going to believe this."

"So – he's OK?" Clarke asks, with no attempt at subtlety.

"Yeah. We're all well. Physically at least – it's been a long five years. And we haven't figured out a way down yet."

"That's what I wanted to talk about. I've made some new friends." She says, throwing Diyoza an amused glance. "Could you get Bellamy and Raven? I want to talk it over with them."

Emori agrees, and runs to fetch them. Clarke settles by the lazer-comm to wait for a few moments, but she is not left to wait in peaceful silence.

"So this Bellamy is your weakness?" Diyoza probes, voice carefully level.

Clarke sees no sense in denying it. "I'd argue he's my strength. And it's his sister who leads the group in the bunker."

Diyoza nods. "I'll try not to make him angry."

At that moment, his much-missed voice sounds over the lazer-comm. "Clarke? Is it true? You really made it?"

She lets out a sigh of sheer relief. "Yeah. I'm here. It's so good to hear your voice." She lets her guard down just long enough for the words to slip out.

"You, too." He lets out a slightly hysterical laugh. "You're alive. This is – wow."

Clarke finds herself grinning, but unfortunately this is not the time for happy reunions. "Listen. I can't wait to catch up with you, but we have to figure this out first. Is Raven there?"

"I'm here. Congrats on surviving." Raven's voice pipes up.

"Hey. Great. So – my new friend has a bunch of criminals following her orders. But she also has mining equipment and a working spaceship. Which is going to be useful as the bunker is buried in rubble. And you're stuck in space." She looks up to find Diyoza snorting with cynical laughter.

"So she's going to dig out the bunker and help us get down?" Raven guesses. "What's in it for her?"

"They need doctors. And they want to build a life here, but they've got no farmers or engineers."

"So how do we do this?" Bellamy asks.

"This is the plan. The rest of my... group are going to stay safe and out of sight here. I'm going to the bunker with Diyoza and her men. They're going to dig out Octavia and her people, and make a peace deal with them." She swallows. "You guys are the key to the peace deal."

"So we're hostages up here until my sister agrees to a deal." Bellamy summarises, with apparent unconcern.

"Pretty much. Sorry – it was the best I could do."

"Don't apologise." He tells her warmly. "You did great. You did what I'd expect you to do. We'll see you soon."

Diyoza steps forward and joins the conversation. "You'll hear from us even sooner. I'll need proof to your sister that you're alive." She pauses a little. "And maybe I'll let Clarke call for a chat, you know? There's something heartwarming about all this." She says, in a sarcastic monotone that makes it perfectly clear that her heart is not warmed in the slightest.

"Yes. Well – that's Diyoza." Clarke adds, less than helpfully.

She's not ready to relax, not just yet. But she's starting to think that this plan might actually come together.

…...

Clarke takes a moment to step into the trees and seek out Echo, talking her through the plan. Echo is only too happy to stay in Shallow Valley, watching over Madi and keeping an eye on the actions of the Eligius prisoners setting up their tents in the patch of the valley they have claimed.

Clarke therefore leaves her with a warm hug and joins Diyoza and a small group of her miners in flying to Polis.

It doesn't take long to get into the bunker. It's the work of only a few seconds for Clarke to rappel down into the atrium.

But she thinks that she could live a whole lifetime and never forget the scene that greets her there – the blood-splattered walls, the eager crowd, and the sight of Kane wielding a sword. The sights and smells and even the taste of blood on the air are almost overwhelming.

And yet, with her appearance, a taut silence falls over the atrium. Even as the crowd strain urgently against the barriers, they don't make any noise.

"Clarke?" A voice that sounds somewhat like Octavia calls from up high.

Clarke looks about her, tries to figure out where Octavia is. There, that's her – except that it's not her, not really. It's a person of Octavia's build and hair colour, but that's about where the resemblance ends. Everything from her bearing to her make-up to the clothes she wears suggests that something has gone very wrong, here.

Just in case that wasn't clear from the blood-soaked floor.

"Octavia. Come back up topside with me. We need to talk."

…...

Any confidence Clarke ever had in her optimistic plan evaporates very quickly during the time it takes for her and Octavia to be winched back to the surface. Just a few seconds is enough for her to realise that this new Octavia is very different from the girl she used to know. Octavia was always wilful, and one to see only her side of any situation. But now she's had five years of absolute power and apparently a whole lot of bloodshed to shape her into someone who appears almost impossible to negotiate with.

She will just have to hope that Octavia loves her brother as much as she ever did.

They arrive at the surface, and find that Diyoza is sitting on a chunk of rubble nearby, hand resting absently on her baby bump. She's an interesting woman, Clarke has to admit it – such a strange combination of humour and authority and maternal instinct.

"You must be Octavia." She says, by way of greeting.

"My people call me Blodreina." Octavia says, and Clarke shivers. The red queen – sounds about right, based on what she's just seen.

"Lovely. Colonel Charmaine Diyoza." With a half-smile, Diyoza sticks her hand out.

Octavia does not take her hand. "Why are we here?" She asks, instead.

Clarke takes a seat and chooses to ignore the fact that Octavia is still standing – or perhaps even pacing a little on the spot. "We're here to make a deal. There's a green valley where all of us can live – Diyoza's people and yours, Octavia. And mine." She adds as an afterthought. "There's plenty of land, you just need to agree to share it."

" _Share_ it? Wonkru will not _share_ the valley." Octavia spits. "If there is land out there, we will take it for Wonkru alone."

"I thought you might say that." Diyoza offers mildly. "Is this a good moment to mention your brother?"

Octavia jumps in shock. "My brother? Isn't he with you, Clarke?"

"No. We got separated. He's still on the Ring – they're stuck there. Diyoza's offering to give them a lift back down here."

"Out of the goodness of my own heart." Diyoza lies with spirit.

"That's _all_? Those are your terms? I give you a share of the valley for one _lift_?" Octavia seethes.

"Funny. Clarke seemed to think you loved your brother more than that." Diyoza says mildly.

That puts a pause on things. Clarke can practically see Octavia's mind working – this really is the only way to get Bellamy back. But equally, she senses that this new _Blodreina_ is not one to give up anything without a fight.

"What's in it for you?" Octavia asks Diyoza at last.

"We need doctors. And we genuinely want to live in peace – we hope to share the expertise of your farmers and start new lives here."

Clarke senses an opportunity to speak up. "You remember why you brought Wonkru together, Octavia? You remember what it was all about? A way for all people to live together? Remember what Lincoln wanted?"

"Don't try to bring Lincoln into this." Octavia seems to be trying to bite the words out angrily, but Clarke thinks they come out more sad.

Clarke presses her advantage. "This is a chance to start again, Octavia. To leave behind that bunker." She thinks of the bloodstains, but she doesn't quite dare to mention them. "To bring all people together and share the valley. And to bring your brother home."

Octavia is frowning, hard. "I want to talk to my brother before I decide anything."

Diyoza sighs. "Of course you do. Come on, then. Let me welcome you to our transport ship."

Clarke follows behind them, trying not to break into a smile. Between Lincoln's dream and Bellamy's life, she thinks they might just pull this off.

…...

Sure enough, Octavia does come around once she's heard her big brother agreeing with everything that has already been said. Clarke's not sure whether it's Bellamy's safety or the way she keeps bringing up Lincoln's name that does it.

No, perhaps that's too cynical. Perhaps Octavia really does want a way out, a chance to leave behind whatever it is that went so wrong in that blood-soaked bunker.

Either way, they set to work on ferrying all of Wonkru out of the bunker. The plan is to transport them all to Shallow Valley in the ship and set up camp a healthy distance away from the budding Eligius settlement. Then the pilot – Shaw, it turns out his name is – will fly back up to space to pick up the group on the Ring as well as the rest of the Eligius prisoners.

As plans go, Clarke likes to think it's one of her better ones. She can't take all the credit, of course – Diyoza and Octavia have also played their parts to perfection. But she's already looking forward to the future with hope.

Her only concern is wondering how long this peace deal will last. It depends on what Octavia's really thinking, she supposes. If her agreement is really about bringing people together and leaving the bunker behind, peace might last. But if this is all just a way to get her brother back, then things might fall apart. And there are visible tensions within Diyoza's group, too, but Clarke suspects they won't be a problem as long as everyone is fed and gets the medical treatment they need.

In her experience, peace lasts much better when people are happy and healthy.

…...

It is Clarke's idea for her, Diyoza and Octavia to sit together while they wait for the transport ship to get back from space with the party from the Ring and the rest of the Eligius prisoners. She tells them it's for convenience, so all three parties in the peace deal can get the news of the ship's return at the same time.

Really, she's trying to force them to get to know each other. She figures that can only help her cause of keeping the peace. She takes the two of them to the village and introduces them to Echo and Madi. Again, humanising the people on each side of this power struggle seems like a good move. And she figures they're about as safe as they'll ever be, now everyone has agreed to the deal.

"This is my family." She declares. "Echo and Madi."

"And you live in this village?" Diyoza checks, looking around her.

"Yes."

Octavia, meanwhile, looks ready to lash out. "I cast Echo out. How is she still alive?"

"She is, and you took the deal." Clarke reminds her. "So treat her with respect or break the terms."

Octavia subsides into simmering silence. Echo and Diyoza, meanwhile, are looking at each other with cautious respect, while Madi hides behind her legs.

"Please, have a seat." Clarke gestures to their picnic table. "Let's share some food while we wait for the ship to get back."

It's awkward at first. Octavia says almost nothing, Diyoza says far too much – but none of it helpful. Clarke nibbles on dried apple slices and wonders how long it can possibly take for a ship to get to space and back.

And then Diyoza hits on a more promising topic at long last.

"Tell me, Octavia – how did you come to lead your people?"

"I won a fight. The final conclave – I beat the champions of the other twelve clans."

"So you're the champion of champions, round here?" Diyoza asks, new respect in her eyes. "Not bad going for, what, a twenty-year-old?"

"I was seventeen." Octavia says, with grudging pride.

"When I was seventeen I was still learning Geography. Tell me, Clarke – what were you doing at seventeen?"

Octavia snorts. "She was leading her people, too. My people – sort of."

Diyoza nods. "I should have guessed. So Octavia – what's your weapon of choice?"

"Sword, I guess. And my wits."

Diyoza laughs. "You said it. Tactics are always more important than guns." She lowers her voice. "Men never seem to get that – or at least, the men I've worked with."

Octavia bristles. "It was my brother who gave me the idea that won me the final conclave."

"Ah. The famous Bellamy. I can't wait to meet him – he must be quite special, to have all these brilliant women obsessed with him."

Clarke snorts. "I'll tell Echo you said that. It's her favourite joke, too."

Diyoza nods. A silence falls – but a silence that is slightly less tense than the silences that have gone before.

Miracle of miracles, Octavia leans forward to take a duck leg, starts nibbling on it cautiously.

"This is good, Clarke."

"Yeah. We're lucky here – you'll see. Plenty of game, good fertile land."

"I get it. We'll be able to share and still have plenty." Octavia concludes, with bite to her tone.

Diyoza hums a little and reaches for her drink. "The way I see it, we have two options here. We can keep hating each other and have this strained peace, where we eat duck together once in a blue moon but resent each other. War only ever a wrong word away. Or we can go all-in. We combine our people – each group has different skills. And it could benefit all of us – a bigger group will outweigh my power struggle with McCreary, for example. I could help you out if ever you need to keep that Sangedakru faction in line." She gives a carefully casual shrug. "I think it could really work."

"Or we could keep to ourselves." Octavia bites back. "What was that you said? We could keep hating each other."

Diyoza leans back in her chair. "I'm not so sure I can. I'm sick of having only murderers for company – I like the two of you. Clarke looks like she's not had much company these last few years. And I get the feeling, Octavia, that you're tired of hating people." She takes a long drink. "I get the feeling that you're tired of hating yourself."

That's what wins it. That's the moment that Octavia lowers her head and nods, and Clarke could swear there's a tear streaking down her cheek, cutting lines in that horrific make up that she's starting to suspect might be actual blood.

"OK. We'll give it a go. We'll try – a new Wonkru, I guess." Octavia mutters.

"Wonkru?"

"One people. One clan." Clarke offers.

"Then let's do it." Diyoza insists. "All three of us, leading all these people together. Let's shake on it."

Octavia nods, reaches for her knife. "This is how we bind our oaths." She demonstrates, cutting her palm, reaching out to Clarke who does the same. Diyoza gets the picture and joins in, shaking with each of them in turn.

A three-way oath, sealed in blood.

It's at that point that Clarke reaches for another apple chip and relaxes slightly. "I'm not sure why I'm here. You both bring bigger groups to the deal."

"Bigger than your family of three." Diyoza points out, eyes narrowed.

Clarke shrugs. She's realised, by now, that nothing escapes Diyoza's notice for long.

"Of course you're in on it. You know the valley." Diyoza offers.

"You know leadership." Octavia insists, already starting to soften slightly into the girl Clarke used to know.

Yeah, actually, now she comes to think about it – the way she's managed to arrange this whole peace treaty makes her think that Octavia might be right.

…...

When Bellamy walks into the clearing, all hell breaks lose. At least, that's how it feels to Clarke – even though it's only a flurry of hugs. She lets Octavia go to him first, because they're actually related and all. She watches, shifting her weight from foot to foot, as the siblings share a long embrace.

And then Octavia pulls away, and Clarke flies forwards, and flings her arms around Bellamy's neck.

He hugs her back, hard, and she can feel his nose nuzzling into her neck and hear him sighing loudly.

"You're alive. You're really alive." He murmurs.

She can't quite find the words to reply to that. She just holds him tight and breathes in the scent that clings to his skin.

The hug ends too soon for her liking, but probably too late for politeness and decency. She doesn't care – she's far too happy to care.

"So this is it. The triumvirate." Bellamy observes, looking between the three of them.

"The triumvirate?" Diyoza echoes, brow quirked. Clarke wonders if Bellamy is living up to her expectations of him.

"Yeah. It's a term from Roman politics, when power is shared three ways." He explains, while Clarke finds herself somewhere between amused by him and exasperated. "I guess it might be a different word as you're all women not men. But Factory Station boys don't learn much Latin."

Diyoza shrugs. "Call it what you like. I call it a deal."

"One people." Octavia supplies, nodding.

Echo emerges from the trees at that point, moving silently. She hasn't forgotten the skills of a spy, even though she has left behind that lifestyle. "Bellamy? There's someone who wants to meet you." She says.

Clarke grins. "Madi? You can come out and say hi to Bellamy now."

Sure enough, Madi peeps out from behind a tree. She's learnt a thing or two from Echo.

"Bellamy!" The child exclaims, running towards him. "You're back."

"Yeah. I'm back." He looks to Clarke in confusion.

She reads his expression for the cry for clarity that it is. "Bellamy, this is Madi. Echo and I found her just after Praimfaya. We've been living here, the three of us."

"And raising her on stories of you." Echo supplies.

Clarke feels herself flush, and carefully avoids Diyoza's amused gaze. "Yeah, that too."

Bellamy takes that in his stride. "Great to meet you, Madi. I hate to think what they've told you about me."

"Everything." Madi declares with conviction.

There's laughter at that. And after the laughter comes a little pause, all six of them looking at each other with questions in their eyes.

It is Echo who moves first, backing herself as she does so well, these days. "Come on, Madi. Let's start making supper. Catch you later, Clarke. Have fun catching up with _your_ Bellamy."

"I should go tell Miller and Indra the new plan." Octavia says, getting to her feet. "And then can I come say hi to Raven and Monty and the others?"

Bellamy nods. "Sure. I guess we'll meet you back here?"

"I'm going to tell McCreary the good news. If I'm not back here in an hour, he's staged a coup." Diyoza tells them, a lilt to her tone which indicates she is mostly joking.

"Bellamy? Can you show me where the others are? We should help them move in." Clarke suggests.

He nods. "Yeah. Sure."

He starts walking, gestures to her to follow. She hastens to join him, wondering where to start with catching up on the five years they've been apart. Should she ask after her friends? Should she start telling him more about Madi?

Before she has decided what to say, he clears his throat and speaks. "When Echo said _your_ Bellamy...?"

"Just a running joke. Ignore her." Clarke mutters, flustered. "Sorry."

"Yeah, no worries. Fine. Great."

When Monty appears on the path in front of them, Clarke is relieved to say the least. Not just because she's happy to see him alive and well, but also because she's not sure how much longer she and Bellamy were going to keep avoiding each other's eyes and spluttering incoherently, if left to their own devices.

…...

A long afternoon turns into a long evening. They come to an odd kind of arrangement where the leadership of each group, and a few families with young kids, take homes in the village. Meanwhile, everyone else sets up tents that spread over vast areas of land. Miller has made a bit of an effort to get little groups of Wonkru tents pitched near little groups of Eligius tents, and that seems to be working rather well. As Clarke wanders around while the sun is setting, she can even see Wonkru and Eligius trading rations and starting to chat to each other.

Maybe they can really make this work.

By the time she makes it back to the village, she's exhausted. She might not have started out as the leader of either faction, but she can see now why Octavia pointed out that she was the one who was an expert in leadership. She feels like she's spent the whole day negotiating and engineering friendships and introducing people to their new neighbours.

On arriving home, she finds that her friends who lived in space, along with a couple of other friends from the bunker like Miller and Jackson, are sitting around a campfire with Echo and Madi.

There seems to be a space between Echo and Bellamy. She wonders if she's supposed to sit there.

While she's dithering, Madi waves her over. "Clarke! Look! We saved you a seat." Sure enough, she's indicating that space.

Well, then. She settles herself on the ground and tries not to fall asleep where she sits.

The conversation around her is loud and fast moving. Monty has a store of anecdotes about algae. Miller is not so prone to telling ghost stories as she remembers, but he does want to hear all about what it was like to go back to the Ring. Harper is simply full of joy that so many people have survived and the future looks bright.

Clarke is trying to keep up, but Bellamy keeps distracting her. Every so often he'll lean in to whisper something inconsequential in her ear – a comment on the fish they had for supper, or a question about the climate round here, or a memory from playing board games with Emori on the Ring.

She supposes he's probably trying to remember how their friendship used to work. She ought to help him out with that, but she's struggling herself if she's being honest. She recalls it being all about danger and protectiveness and optimism and the fight to survive. She doesn't remember it being about anecdotes or _chatting_.

But maybe she'd like it to be. Maybe it would be good, in peace time, to try a new style of relationship with Bellamy.

She has a go at meeting him half way.

"We eat lots of fish here. Have you been down to the river yet? It's not far. Madi taught us both how to fish with spears." It's an inane comment, but it's better than nothing, she figures.

"I've not been there yet. Do you want to show me the way now?" He asks.

"Now? It's dark."

He shrugs. "The moon's pretty full. And we can take a flashlight."

She hesitates for a moment. The friendship she remembers having with Bellamy _definitely_ didn't involve taking moonlit strolls together. But she's absolutely certain that a romantic relationship with him based on the odd moonlit stroll would be something she would like very much.

Is that what he's getting at, here? Or has she completely misunderstood?

"Sure. Let's go." She turns to Echo and Madi. "Are you guys going to be OK without me a bit longer?"

Madi pouts but nods.

"I'll make it up to you." Clarke promises. "How about we go on a trip together when everything's settled down? We could go to the berry fields?"

"Can Bellamy come too?" Madi asks.

"If he wants to." Clarke hedges.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that." He agrees, smiling a slightly flustered smile.

That's when she becomes almost sure of it. Moonlit walks and flustered smiles can only mean one thing, she's pretty sure.

…...

They carry on chatting about nothing in particular as they leave the village and move past groups of their acquaintances. Clarke gets sidetracked by her mother at one point – they've barely had chance to catch up thanks to the hectic day, but they make plans to remedy that soon.

It's going to be a busy week, by the looks of things.

When Clarke and Bellamy find themselves alone, half way to the river, the tone of the conversation between them changes abruptly.

"It's amazing that you made all this happen. All these people living together." Bellamy says.

She doesn't bother demurring and reminding him of Octavia and Diyoza's roles, because she knows that's not the point he's making. "Thanks. I guess I've learnt a lot about unexpected alliances while you've been gone."

She hears him swallow. "Yeah. I've bean meaning to ask about that. You and Echo are close now, huh?"

"We're _family_." She states with conviction. "She and Madi have been everything to me, these last five years."

"Yeah, I can see that. And you and Echo – are you, you know? Together?"

"We hooked up one time." She shrugs. "We haven't bothered since. We're better off as friends."

"OK. Yeah. I'm not trying to be rude but – how? You weren't friends when – when we left."

Clarke thinks about her answer for several long seconds. She could give the easy answer – something light and cheerful about spending time in each other's company and raising Madi together. She could remind Bellamy that Earth forces even the most unlikely of people together – he knows that from first hand experience.

But she thinks it's about time she started telling him the truth, and the whole entire truth, even when it's scary.

"I nearly killed myself." It's the first time she's said the words out loud, and it's somehow frightening and liberating, all at once. "Back near the beginning. She talked me down. And I guess – we've both had our struggles. We've helped each other through them. That's really how we first bonded. Then we realised we actually quite like each other." She concludes.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you." He says, in a croaking, strangled voice. "I guess it's a good thing you had someone to help you through it."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry it wasn't me that was here to help you through it. I'm sorry I left you." He sounds rather choked, she thinks.

"That's OK. Really, I wanted you to go and be safe." She takes a risk and reaches out to clasp his hand. That's a thing they occasionally do, she seems to remember, when they really need something to hold on to – and it sounds like Bellamy needs something to hold onto, in this moment.

"And – are you doing OK now?" He asks.

She knows what he means. It's always been like that between them. "Pretty much. I haven't had bad days very often in the last couple of years. And now I have a future keeping all these people safe and at peace to look forward to."

He's still holding her hand, she notes, as they keep walking. More than that, in fact – he seems to be rubbing his thumb over the back of her knuckles in a wandering sort of a pattern. Is this what it would be like, if their relationship veered further in the direction of moonlit strolls and flustered smiles?

They arrive at the river. It's pretty in the moonlight, Clarke has to admit, with faint light sparkling off the ripples. She's never bothered walking here at night before, but she might try it more often.

She might try it more often, if Bellamy wants to.

They sit on a rock overlooking the water. It's a rock she has often sat on with Madi during the day, but it feels different, now, in the darkness.

And then Bellamy asks her a most unexpected question.

"Do you think we're better off as friends?" He asks, voice tight.

"What?"

"You and me. It's just you said – about you and Echo being better off as friends. And for the five years I thought you were dead I swear I tortured myself every day with wondering whether I should have said something to you while I had the chance. But I could never figure out whether you saw me as a friend or as – something more."

"I saw you as _everything_." She says, candid, sticking firm to her resolution to be honest with him. "You're the best friend I've ever had – I mean no disrespect to Wells or Echo, but it's the truth. You were my colleague in leadership, and my personal bodyguard it felt like sometimes. You're my family every bit as much as Echo and Madi are. But you're also – you're Bellamy. And you're _definitely_ something more."

He doesn't answer her in words. He answers her with a kiss, cupping her chin with his hand and tilting her face up to his lips. It's not a long kiss, or a deep or urgent kiss. It's soft, almost tentative, testing the waters. It's somewhere between an introduction and a promise of more to come.

"I just wanted to check before I said anything." Bellamy whispers as he pulls away.

"What do you mean?"

"After what you said about you and Echo deciding not to bother hooking up again. I wanted to check that you're into me."

"I'm into you." She confirms, laughing, as if there could be any doubt about that.

"Good. Me too." He presses another quick peck to her lips. "So, here goes. I love you."

She gasps. "I love you, too." She assures him, as a smile breaks out over her face.

"Thank goodness. That could have been embarrassing." He laughs, the tension easing at last.

She sighs and leans into his shoulder. They can kiss later, but for now she wants to just _be_. She wants to celebrate the fact that he's here, alive and well, and that their relationship has shifted into this new territory.

She wants to listen to him breathing, and know that her hope has been well-placed.

…...

They manage to make their day trip to the berry fields three days later. Clarke's impressed with that – there's still plenty to do, organising the teams that are building the new houses or else hunting or farming. And her mother and Jackson have their work cut out on the medical side of things.

But it's Diyoza who finally tells Clarke to get out and take some family time.

"Go on, get out of here. The _triumvirate_ will just have to cope with being one woman down for the day." She says, throwing a look at Bellamy over Clarke's shoulder.

"I think she likes me." Bellamy jokes, as they walk to the rover.

"She has to like you. It's part of our deal." Clarke tells him, and it's not far from the truth.

They have planned the seating arrangements in the rover carefully, as they have planned everything this week. Echo will drive on the way out, and Bellamy will drive on the way home. And meanwhile everyone else will sit in the back together. It's an interesting challenge, making their family life work now that Clarke and Bellamy are a couple. They want to spend time together, but also with Madi. And Clarke doesn't want to neglect her relationship with Echo, who has become something between best friend and sister and rock to her in recent years. But they figure it out, always, splitting the difference and hanging out all together more often than not.

Clarke has to admit, she loves Bellamy even more for how seamlessly and cheerfully he's welcomed Madi and Echo into his life. Sure, it's been a little awkward for him to learn to trust Echo, but they're getting there.

They arrive at the berry fields, and spread out a picnic blanket. They've brought more food than can possibly be needed, and a ball to play with when they have eaten.

"Can we have games first?" Madi asks.

"Lunch first." Echo insists.

Madi pouts. "But I want to play first."

Clarke shares a look with Echo. This isn't the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last.

"How about you stay here and play while I run to fetch the water?" Clarke suggests. "That might give you ten minutes to play ball."

Madi brightens. "Great. Bellamy, can you bowl?" She asks, already casting about for anything that might serve as a bat.

"I'll come with you for the water." Echo volunteers.

This is not like that first time, Clarke thinks as they walk. This is not like volunteering for near-certain death at a radio tower in the snow. This is volunteering to chat while they walk, to give Madi and Bellamy a chance to get to know each other.

But most of all it's volunteering because that's what they do, now. They stay by each other's side, every step of the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
